


all it does is rain

by youngjo



Category: ATEEZ (Band)
Genre: Abusive Parents, Alcohol Mentions, Alternate Universe - College/University, Boys Kissing, Childhood Friends, Falling In Love, Friends to Lovers, Light Angst, M/M, Non-Terminal Illness, implied hwangi, implied woosang, loosely based on 5 centimeters per second, the reconnection au no one asked for
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-21
Updated: 2020-03-21
Packaged: 2021-02-28 17:21:55
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 14,814
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23240899
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/youngjo/pseuds/youngjo
Summary: It began in high school, with the scraggly boy who showed up in tattered clothes and fire in his eyes. From his safety pinned backpack straps to the frayed bottoms of his jeans, his lot in life was easy to assess. Other children avoided him; some even whispered behind their hands. They made no effort to speak with him, despite his friendly smile and clear intention at making friends. Such a bright light on the cusp of flickering out.or,Yunho never expected falling in love would hurt this bad.
Relationships: Choi San/Jeong Yunho
Comments: 14
Kudos: 113
Collections: OBSCURE SORROWS FIC FEST





	all it does is rain

**Author's Note:**

> wild that this is finally done oof,,
> 
> anyways! disclaimer that this fic is based on the anime short film 5 centimeters per second and as such has a very vague and disorienting feel! so there will be parts where it just picks up or timeskips, and that's the feeling I was going for! hope you like it!
> 
> I made a [spotify playlist](https://open.spotify.com/playlist/2xuzAq5dYUxeFJCGzy773o?si=tk-gp3oyQnK0PJKhX6RSyQ) for this awhile ago if you'd like to listen while you read!
> 
> for obscure sorrows fest <3
> 
> ——————
> 
> _Antematter } n. the dream versions of things in your life, which appear totally foreign but are still somehow yours—your anteschool, your antefriends, your antehome—all part of a parallel world whose gravitational pull raises your life’s emotional stakes, increasing the chances you’ll end up betting everything you have._
> 
> _Funkenzwangsvorstellung } n. the instinctive trance of a campfire in the dark, spending hours roasting and watching as it settles and sinks into the ground like a heap of shipwrecks whose sailors raise their flickering sails trying to signal that the prevailing winds of your life are about to shift, that the edge of the Earth is real and looming just a few years ahead, and that your marshmallow is on fire._

**_—act i._ **

It began in the lull of fall, cicadas buzzing in the distance and the smell of autumn heady. The leaves had begun their shift to orange, red, and yellow. Yunho found beauty in that when he was younger, unknowing of the death occurring right before him. A firework explosion of color, only to become brown and brittle, left to crunch underfoot while people carried on with their days. A moment in time yearned for all throughout the summer heat, only for it to become forgotten the moment the trees sat barren and their leaves became one with an ever growing pile in some landfill.

Yunho sympathized with that.

It began in high school, with the scraggly boy who showed up in tattered clothes and fire in his eyes. From his safety pinned backpack straps to the frayed bottoms of his jeans, his lot in life was easy to assess. Other children avoided him; some even whispered behind their hands. They made no effort to speak with him, despite his friendly smile and clear intention at making friends. Such a bright light on the cusp of flickering out.

Yunho didn’t share his classmates’ disapproval.

He had always been a shy child by nature, but with Choi San, becoming friends with him flowed as easy as a spring current. His heart was pure, full of love and the desire to make friends. Yunho fell into his gravitational pull so easily. 

His life could be divided by  _ pre-San _ and  _ post-San, _ truthfully. Yunho couldn’t recall a time San’s warm personality hadn’t been within his every waking hour. They ate lunch together. They studied together. They played video games together. They read the same comics and watched the same movies and had the same interests.

Just as the winter destroys everything within its frigid grip, it too dug icicle fingers into the bandaid holding their lives together and tore it free. 

Yunho learned of San’s move only days before it was to happen. They were seated outside the front gate of their school, San holding some sweet drink he loved and Yunho clutching an empty can that once contained coffee.

San exhaled, his breath seeping from the scarf wrapped tightly around his neck. “I’m moving.”

Yunho paused mid-drink, dread prickling at the soles of his feet. “... Moving?”

“Moving,” he repeated, drawing his knees closer to his chest. For someone already so impossibly small, he somehow managed to grow ever tinier. “To Daegu.”

Despite sitting down, Yunho felt like all the air had been stolen from his lungs. “That’s not … terrible.” Still within visiting distance for the weekends.

“I’ll call you, Yunho.” San raised his head, and Yunho mirrored him. Their eyes met, the glint of streetlights illuminating the same fire within San’s. Dusk approached rapidly, leaving them beneath the starlit sky. “I’ll call you,” San repeated, “And we can visit on the weekends. We’re best friends, remember?”

Yunho’s lip quivered but he fought against the emotions threatening to spill forth. “Promise you’ll keep in touch?”

San extracted his other hand from his pocket, extending it towards him. His pinky wiggled beneath the black fabric protecting him from the cold air nipping at their features. “Pinky promise! By the laws of the universe, you can’t break those!” He smiled, bright and beaming, and Yunho felt newfound resolve blossom within his chest.

“Yeah. Yeah! Pinky promise!” Yunho raised his own hand, the white glove covering it contrasting against San’s. He locked their fingers together, nodding his head. “We can do this. We’re best friends.”

We’re best friends.

_ We’re best friends. _

We were best friends.

Yunho learned pinky promises were easy to break.

**_—act ii._ **

“I’m home!” Yunho brought the chill in with him, toes frozen and fingertips trembling as he shut the door behind him. He shook the few flakes that dared venture inside with him to the floor, teeth chattering together. His backpack was tossed to the floor with little care of the books and papers contained within it. 

“Welcome home!” The sound of his mother’s voice drifted through their apartment, carried in her signature singsong way. Sounds of her moving about the kitchen drifted down the hall, riding a variety of delicious smells. She leaned around the wall separating the hallway from the kitchen and waved her favorite soup spoon, broth from the stew she had been cooking splattering along the opposite wall. They were all endearing things that Yunho had been too young to appreciate at that moment.

He shrugged his coat off, followed by his boots. Yunho rubbed his hands together as he padded down the hall, stomach grumbling eagerly at the prospect of food. 

“How was school today? Anything fun happen?” His mother returned to tending to her soup, Yunho eyeing the various ingredients spread out along the counter.

“It went alright. Nothing exciting or anything.” Yunho spun on his heel, remembering he forgot his backpack. His fingers slid into the straps and he lifted it, pausing a moment to admire the single safety pin attached to the right one. 

“Oh! I forgot! You got a letter today; it’s on the kitchen table.”

The chill within his bones did not stop his rapid shuffle back to the table, backpack tossed carelessly upon it for a second time that day. Sitting in the center of the table, one edge waterlogged and address smeared upon the front, was an envelope. The sight of it brought a whole host of emotions flooding through his body and he extended shaking fingers to brush along the edge of it, drawing the letter close to his chest.

_ To: Jeong Yunho. From: Choi Sannie!  _

He had even drawn a little impersonation of a face holding up a peace sign.

Yunho sank into his usual chair, just staring at the letter for a solid five minutes. He had waited a long time for the piece of paper to arrive. A month had passed since San had moved, and after his initial letter and Yunho’s response, it had been radio silence. Rationally, even as a young teenager, Yunho knew he was busy settling into his new school. But the sense of relief a tiny rectangle sent throughout his limbs felt incredible.

_ Dear Yunnie, _

_ Sorry I didn't write sooner! I ended up moving again. I'm sorry I couldn't tell you sooner. Things just got super busy is all! I know this letter is short but I have to finish it before the mail comes today! Oh, here's my new number too! Please call me when you can! _

_ Love Sannie ♡ _

Yunho sagged in relief. The words were simple, bare minimum reassurances, but he accepted them happily.

He nervously called following dinner that night, listening to the ringtone with quiet dread. Once, twice, three times, until it stopped on the fourth. 

"Choi residence. May I ask who is calling?" A voice that definitely did not belong to San startled him. 

Yunho panicked for a moment, trying to come up with words. 

"If this is a prank, I will hang up on you."

"W-wait!" He finally exclaimed. "Um, sorry, is … is San there? This is Yunho."

Moments of bated breath silence passed, before the person on the other line sighed. "Yes, hold on." The sound of shuffling met his ears, followed by a muffled yell of San's name.

Yunho finally dared to breathe as the first person, presumably one of San's parents, said his name. The phone shuffled again and then a puff of air crackled over the other end.

"Yunnie! You finally got my letter!"

His face instantly lit up. "I did! It came today."

San laughed softly. "I'm glad it arrived safely! How have you been? Still drinking milk coffee? How's your mom?"

Yunho whined weakly. "Too many questions!" He readjusted his grip on the phone. "School is okay I guess, but it's not the same without you. And I'll always love milk coffee, thank you very much!" The boy hesitated, gaze trailing over to where his mother was. She had fallen asleep in her recliner, the plush fabric swallowing her small frame. "She's doing alright. How have you been, San?"

The hesitation, had he been older and wiser, may have set forth red flags. But in the moment, consumed by adoration for San, Yunho completely missed it.

"Things are good." The lack of enthusiasm was covered by San immediately switching his sunshine back on. "Hey Yunnie, can I ask you something?"

Yunho perked up. “O-of course! Anything.”

San inhaled, and his voice crackled through the speaker—he was whispering. “Meet me at the fourth station from school on Friday? You remember the one, right?”

_ Why so suddenly? _ “I do! Why do you want to meet there?”

“Just trust me!” San laughed. “Ah, I gotta go, Yunnie. Promise you’ll meet me there?”

“I promise!” Yunho’s words were swallowed by the sound of yelling on the line, and then it went dead. He stared at his kitchen table for a few seconds longer than he should’ve, young mind working to understand why someone would be yelling. It wasn’t until his mother asked if he was alright did Yunho snap out of his reverie, reassuring her with a vigorous head nod and lowering the phone to the table.

Their conversation kept him up an hour passed his bedtime that evening.

xxx

“Don’t forget your gloves!” His mother called.

Yunho, struggling to jam his foot into his boot without falling over, gasped in exasperation. “I won’t, I won’t!” He called. Finally managing to slot the boot over his foot, Yunho snatched his jacket from the hook on the wall and hurriedly put it on. “Love you, mom! I’ll be back later!”

“Be safe!” She said back, peeking around the wall to wave at him.

Yunho waved back, noting the glow in her features; she seemed much more lively today. Wrapping his scarf around his neck, Yunho stumbled out the door and hurried down the street. 

It was cold that day, enough to force his breath out in wisps of white and winter air to nip angrily at his knuckles. Even after promising he wouldn’t forget his gloves, he still ran off with only one, forcing the other to be tucked haphazardly into a coat pocket. He nearly missed the train too, slipping on the icy platform and prompting a round of concern from the people around him. Yunho answered politely, easing their fears, and clung to one of the many poles.

The train car was full of various people, ranging from those heading home to those heading out for a night on the town. No one paid him much attention after their initial worry and Yunho appreciated that—his anxiety over the coming meeting had been humming through him all week. His gaze traveled up to the doors he had just entered, clutching the pole tighter as the train finally lurched into action. Outside the window, snow had begun to fall from overcast skies, and Yunho shivered as he fought to work warmth back into his one uncovered hand.

He lamented quietly as the train took him ever closer to the stop where San would be waiting for him. His house was six stops in the opposite direction of his school, meaning the station they were supposed to meet at sat a total of ten stops and one transfer away. Yunho had made the trip before; San used to live there after all. But something about this trip felt … different, and his heart hadn’t stopped hammering since he woke up that morning. The closer they drew, the more Yunho wanted to turn around and go home. He almost did, upon reaching the station for his transfer, but his feet carried him to the other platform without stopping.

If he had paused, even for a moment, he might’ve turned back around.

As the train finally pulled into the station, Yunho took a final moment to gather his nerves. It had been a solid two months since Yunho had seen him and he wasn’t sure what to expect upon the metal doors sliding open—would never be prepared for it, truly.

As if fabricated by fate itself, San had found the exact door Yunho would be exiting from. He gripped the straps of his backpack and stepped onto the platform, their eyes meeting across the way. Yunho realized he had grown taller as they drew close to one another, San having to tip his head back a bit just to meet his eyes. His cheeks were a little less round, lips chapped and hair scruffy, and Yunho’s heart flipped in his chest. 

He was, without a doubt, head over heels for his best friend.

“Yunnie! You made it!” San greeted, his smile wide.

Yunho allowed himself to go into autopilot. “Of course! I haven’t seen you in months. You think I would miss this?”

San laughed in that endearing way of his, the edges of his eyes crinkling. “Reliable puppy Yunho!” He motioned for Yunho to follow, and he obeyed without hesitation. They exited the train platform, San leading him down the street.

Yunho watched the way snow clung to his hair, marveling over the fact that he was taller now. They had been the same height for so long that it felt … weird. It had only been two months and yet it seemed time had left its touch upon them already.

“San, where are we going?” He finally questioned.

“Just a little further!” San turned his head, his smile catching Yunho off guard. “Nowhere dangerous, I promise.”

Alright … San had never led him astray before.

Several moments of walking later—in the opposite direction of San’s old apartment, Yunho soon realized—they reached what he assumed was their destination. A park of sorts, with only a swing set, a few picnic tables, and moderately sized playground. San practically skipped through the snow to the playground area, ducking underneath the walkway connecting the two pieces to each other. Yunho watched until San motioned for him to follow, having to scrunch a little uncomfortably to fit beneath like San had. He shivered as the cold caught up to him.

“This is … an interesting meeting place,” Yunho pouted, hunching over even more to avoid his hair rubbing against the bottom of the walkway.

“I think it’s perfect!” San giggled, reaching up to pat his head. 

“Says the one who doesn’t have to scrunch up!” He protested, but his smile conveyed he wasn’t actually upset. “So … why here?”

San dropped his hand. His friend hummed softly, hunkering down in the scarf that was way too big for him. “I don’t know. It just fit!” 

“Well like, can’t we stand out there?”

“In the  _ wind? _ ”

That was … fair. But Yunho felt like they were beating around the topic a bit. He sucked in his bottom lip, averting his eyes for a moment. His reason for meeting San that day was surely much different than the latter’s. It had been a long time coming but now, faced with the chance to do it, Yunho felt like nothing more than a coward.

San appeared lost in his own thoughts too, rubbing his gloved hands together in a feeble attempt to generate heat. Their eyes met, Yunho’s heart somersaulting in his chest and stomach dropping deep within the earth below his feet.

“I missed you,” San began, careful, “And I know I said I would try my hardest to move back so we could finish school together, but … we’re moving again. Seoul this time.”

It felt like gravity shifted, Yunho’s balance going askew. “S … Seoul? That’s so far away.”

“I know.” San smiled, solemn and unnatural on his face. “I tried reasoning with them but, well, you know—they don’t care what I think.”

“I know,” he mirrored. Yunho’s shoulders drooped ever further. “You’ll call me when you get settled again, right? Send me another letter?”

“Absolutely! We have to stay in touch no matter what!” 

_ You have to do it now, Yunho. Do it while you have the chance. _

“San …” He paused, San perking up at the sound of his voice. “I wish you luck! You’re like, the best at making friends, so I know you’ll fit in.”

_ Yunho! _

San laughed softly. “You’re the one who’s good at making friends, Yunnie, not me.” Their eyes met again, Yunho shivering involuntarily. The aura around them suddenly grew serious. “Can I … do something? Promise it’s not bad.”

Yunho’s brows furrowed in question. “Yes?”

San tugged down his scarf, exposing his chin. He then shifted closer to Yunho and reached up, tiny hands fiddling with his own scarf. Gloved hands cupped his cheeks and Yunho allowed his head to be guided down until they were inches away from each other, his heartbeat reaching impossible speeds within his chest. “There’s another reason I wanted to go under here.” 

And then San kissed him. It wasn’t glorious, and it lasted barely three seconds, Yunho standing there in shocked wide-eyed silence and San’s fingers flexing against his jaw. Then his friend pulled away, and he couldn’t tell whether his cheeks were rosy from the cool air or something else. 

It was a moment that, despite their obvious pining for each other, resulted in doing more harm than good. They laughed it off, talked some more, and then walked back to the station. 

Watching San disappear from the back of his train that day pained him more than he could ever put into words.

**_—act iii._ **

“Don’t stay out late, boy.”

San’s fingers hesitated above his kitchen table, the smell of cigarette smoke and alcohol permeating the apartment. He was nineteen now, and it was graduation day. A joyous occasion for most. His was joyous too, but not for the reason most people wanted it to be. Just as the idea of university meant exploration and finding yourself—San’s meant escapism and striking out on his own. 

“You aren’t coming?” He questioned, but his voice was flat. He lifted the keyring from the table and pocketed it.

His father, kicked back in an old leather recliner they’d pilfered from some dumpster, scoffed. “Parents only go to graduation if they’re proud of their kids.”

Anger boiled in his heart, but until he had secured the scholarship that would set him free, he had to put up with it. Then he could live without someone breathing down his neck. “What about mom? Where is she?” 

“Don’t know, don’t care.” The man waved his hand. “Go on, you’re interrupting my show time.”

San didn’t answer, just silently gathering everything he would need for that afternoon. He closed the door a little too hard upon exiting, something he knew would earn him punishment later, but in the moment he didn’t care. In truth, he didn’t really care that his parents weren’t going. San had a bad reputation in his current high school anyway and adding his asshole parents to the mix would only do more harm. He could go to graduation on his own—he’d done everything else that way too so it wasn’t like it changed anything.

Walking to his school, San shoved his hands into his pockets and looked to the sky. It had been two years since he had last seen Yunho. Two years since they had spoken. Two years since he had dared write a letter. Two years since he had lost his phone number in a series of shitty moves. 

Two years since he had ruined their friendship with a kiss.

He missed him. The last two winters had been particularly hard, bringing a chill that hurt deep within his bones and reminded him of a time long gone. 

San had lived out of boxes for a better part of half his life, sometimes too afraid to unpack for fear of when they would pick up and go again. His parents weren’t great people and, truthfully, shouldn’t have ever had children. They were indifferent to his state more often than not. If he couldn’t run to the corner store to pick up some frivolous snack or shitty drink, then he served no purpose—his father’s words, not his. But San had always been a resourceful kid. He was smart. He knew how to keep his head down, and he knew how to work his parents in a way that kept him free from physical harm. Not that emotional abuse was any better but at least it was bearable. Maybe his parents knew that too; no marks meant no questions.

San was older, wiser even, and he had grown cunning. A flash of emotion here, a flash of emotion there. He knew when to don a mask and remove it again. San became so good at pretending that sometimes, when night blanketed the city and he lay restless upon his mattress, he wondered who the real Choi San was.

It certainly didn’t feel like the man who stared at him within the bathroom mirror.

Sighing quietly, San kicked a pebble down the side of the street. It skipped off the sidewalk, skittering to a halt far enough away that he could deliver another kick to it if he wanted. He didn’t, passing by it as his shoulders sat heavy from the feelings threatening to swallow him whole.

He should be graduating with Yunho. That had been the plan, when he was young and dumb and in love with his best friend. (Still was—couldn’t even deny it.) He had grown up poor,  _ undesirable, _ and yet Yunho never let that stop him. This boy, with a bright smile and a big heart, took a chance on him. San didn’t realize until much, much later that Yunho needed a rock in his life too. They were both struggling with their own situations, both on opposite sides of the bullshit spectrum, but they still made it work.

Approaching the gates to his school, his thoughts drifted to Yunho. He wondered if he was doing well. Was he graduating today too? Yunho had to be; he had always been leagues smarter than San. Better than San in every way, actually, both in personality and in heart. He wondered how Yunho’s mom was doing, and if he had finally finished the old adventure novel his dad had left behind. Most of all, he wondered if Yunho still thought of him too. 

San wouldn’t blame him if he didn’t.

His feet came to a halt as he reached the gates. White ribbons had been strung along them, with a few balloons flapping in the summer breeze. Birds chirped within the trees and excited laughter drifted all around him. San felt so jarringly out of place at that moment, surrounded by things meant to bring happiness while his heart churned with unresolved tension. Yunho should’ve been there with him. They should’ve been spending that day together, but lamenting over those thoughts would do him no good.

So, San took a breath and steeled his nerves, and entered the gates.

Somehow, it felt as if he were letting go.

**_—act iv._ **

“Yunnie, baby, can you bring me my water?”

Yunho’s head snapped up from his laptop, fingers coming to a halt upon the worn keys. His mother was staring at him from her chair, pale and wan, wrapped in a heated blanket Yunho had purchased for her weeks prior. Exhaustion marred her features, her eyes heavy as she fought off an inevitable nap. 

He pushed his glasses back into place and slid his chair back. “Did you take your medicine earlier too?” Yunho questioned, grabbing the easy-open water bottle from the counter. She made a noise in response, most likely too tired to form words. Yunho’s shoulders drooped as he made his way over, dropping next to the chair. He pressed the back of his hand to her forehead but her temperature didn’t feel any higher than normal. 

“Are you sure you can drink this right now?” The man questioned quietly, flipping the lid open. She nodded, and Yunho helped her take a few shaky sips of the water. Some hydration was better than no hydration at least. He lowered his hand, a profound sadness pulling at his chest as she promptly fell asleep. Yunho set the bottle on the tiny table next to her chair and just watched her for a moment or two, listening to her shaky breaths as he fought back the urge to cry. 

It had been many long, hard years of this. Of watching his mom fight with her awful immune system. Sometimes she would be fine for days, and sometimes a sudden cold or flu would leave her weak and bedridden for weeks. Yunho didn’t see it as  _ losing his life _ to taking care of her, but his father had. 

He had left when he had been ten years old, leaving Yunho to watch his mother break down in tears so often she was sick more than healthy. 

She didn’t regret having him—that much Yunho knew. His mother adored him, and he adored her. They were all each other had, after all. But he had heard the doctors on multiple occasions, despite being forced to sit in the hall and swing his feet in some dusty old chair. 

_ You never should’ve had children. You’re lucky he doesn’t share the same condition. _

Yunho didn’t feel like a mistake, but he sure as hell felt like a burden. Had he not been born, perhaps his mother could’ve lived a happier, healthier life, and his father would’ve stayed at her side. There were many regrets Yunho carried, even if they weren’t his to bear.

He wasn’t perfect, he knew that much—but he would always be a far better man than his father ever would.

Pulling himself back to his feet, Yunho rounded the kitchen table and plopped back into his chair once more. The screen of his laptop had gone dark, leaving him to stare at his reflection. He looked tired, older than he should’ve. Were you to see him on the street, you would assume he was already in university toiling away. In truth, Yunho had only just graduated three weeks ago, and he’d been too busy working an awful part time job to focus on studying for entrance exams. He had dreams, he did, but taking care of his mother had always been more important than anything else in his eyes.

Yunho’s fingers fell against his spacebar with a little too much force. The screen booted back to life, casting light upon his weary features. He had been researching a new product to determine whether his mother could handle eating it, scrolling mindlessly through article after article. Exhaustion pulled at his limbs but he still had plenty more to do that evening, including going into work for a night shift. He needed more sleep than life would ever allow him to have and, deep down, he hated it. He was tired at the age of nineteen and he still had so much more life to live.

His eyes raised to the screen, Yunho switching over to his newsfeed. The page was full of random articles like how to grow watermelon seeds, pictures of cute animals, something about a rare scholarship won by Choi San, and a political debate. Yunho scrolled for half a second before his brain realized what he’d just read. He went back up, cursor hovering over the name of the article.

_ Rare Scholarship Awarded to Seoul Area Teenager Choi San. _

“There’s no way,” he mumbled, clicking on it. His eyes grew wide.

Standing with a gaggle of school officials, surrounded by white ribbons, was Choi San. He had grown a bit taller, and his features were sharper, smile wide as the people around him beamed with pride. It was really him, alive and well and still in Seoul. His curiosity won over, Yunho scrolling down as his eyes drank in every word. San had studied hard the last two years, hard enough to apply and actually win one of, if not  _ the _ rarest, scholarships in the country. Yunho’s chest swelled with pride despite the circumstances surrounding their … friendship. 

“So that’s what you’ve been up to.” His gaze trailed up to his mother, her eyes closed and tiny snores coming from her direction. He looked back to the picture. “I always knew you could do it,” Yunho said fondly, reaching out to press his fingertip against San’s chest. “Choi San … The man you are today.”

And something came over him then, Yunho’s eyes drawn to the name of the university. His fingers moved on their own, typing it into the search bar. It was expensive, with a low acceptance rate, but some of the brightest minds within the nation had graduated from the same place. Yunho had long planned on becoming a doctor, hoping to provide further care to his mother. He was smart. He was resourceful. 

Could he actually get into such a prestigious place?

Subconsciously, he knew. His mother needed him. He couldn’t just pick up everything and move to Seoul when she was at her weakest. But, the irrational part of his brain insisted it would be fine—that he could be selfish for the first time in his life.

Looking at his mother, enjoying her first moment of restful sleep in days, his chest tightened. 

xxx

“I smell noodles.”

Yunho turned his head, eyes seeking out the chair. She had awoken, though she hadn’t yet sat up. “Your favorite!” He called back. “Chicken noodle, since I know your stomach is still sensitive.”

“Ah, what did I do to deserve such a good kid,” she said back, pulling her blanket ever tighter around her body. 

Yunho turned back to the dinner he had been making. Normally he would’ve smiled but tonight, he just felt guilty. He stared down at the boiling broth, spoon hovering above it.

“... nnie? Yunnie!” 

He shook his head, breaking himself free of the roil of emotions through his mind. Yunho turned, sheepish smile consuming his features.

“Sorry mom, just kinda … lost in thought.”

She had sat up in the time he had become lost in feeling, cheek propped against the back of the chair. Her eyes were soft. “Is it about Sannie?” At the site of his shocked expression, she laughed. “I wasn’t asleep yet. That’s the first time I’ve heard you mention his name in years.”

Yunho dropped the spoon back into the pot, forcing himself to look away. “Yeah. He was in the news is all.” Deeming the noodles done, he reached down and switched the gas off. He maneuvered around the kitchen on autopilot as he prepared their bowls.

“Hmm … for the scholarship, right?” She responded.

“W-wait, how did you know about that?” He questioned, staring at her.

She laughed again, this time launching into a bit of a coughing fit. His mother raised a hand to stop him from walking over, patting her chest as she worked through it. When she could finally catch her breath again, Yunho had finished filling their bowls. He advanced towards her anyway, dragging one of the kitchen chairs over to her recliner so they could eat together.

“What am I supposed to do all day?” She teased, accepting the bowl. It was lowered into her lap to siphon warmth from it as it cooled down. _ “Sleep?” _

“That’s  _ exactly _ what you should be doing!” He whined, fishing around for the remote. His mother extended her hand, stopping him. Yunho, bewildered, looked at her.

“They have an amazing pharmaceutical program.”

Yunho blinked once, twice—then it set in. “What are you saying?”

“I am more perceptive than you think I am, my dear son,” she said, smiling. “You should apply. If anyone can get in, it’s you.”

“B-but I have to stay here and take care of you,” Yunho protested, bottom lip quivering. “I don’t mind mom, honest!”

“I can move in with Grammie, Yunnie. It’ll work out—I promise.” She smiled at him, taking his hands within her own. They were small, pale and less than half the size of his own; he squeezed them gently. “You deserve to follow your dreams. You deserve more than this.”

Yunho swallowed, vision going hazy. “I have never seen this as a burden, mom. Taking care of you has never bothered me.”

“I know, baby, I know.” She withdrew one of her hands, raising it instead to softly pet his head. “And that’s exactly why you need to do this. You have always been here for me. It’s time for you to experience the joys of growing up too, don’t you think?”

No, he didn’t think, but he also knew she wouldn’t let it go if he disagreed. His mother had always been stubborn and resilient. She had to be, given her status in life. Never had she backed down from a challenge, and Yunho knew first hand how strong her resolve was once she made up her mind.

Yunho squeezed the hand he was still holding between his own, meeting her eyes. Silent understanding passed between them and he nodded. If it would make her proud, if this was truly the path she wished to send him on, he would do it. Regardless of other reasons, he would do everything in his power to become a son worth being proud of.

“I won’t let you down,” he murmured.

“You never have, baby,” she whispered fondly, “You have always made me proud.”

**_—act v._ **

Standing in the middle of his dorm room, staring at the boxes he has yet to unpack, Yunho felt out of place. Sure, he was there physically, but his mind still hadn’t caught up to the whirlwind of activity life had thrown him the last three months. Weeks of studying and stressing over entrance exams, slowly moving his mom to his grandmother’s house, taking a train all the way to Seoul for even a vague chance at getting in amidst that, and sitting in the dark for another week while waiting for the letter that would confirm or deny his future … it was almost too much for Yunho’s poor heart.

But, against all odds, he had done it—he had aced the entrance exams and gotten in.

He still couldn’t believe it. Even while grasping the key to his dorm in one hand and his class schedule in the other, he couldn’t wrap his head around it. Yunho had even been lucky enough to get a single room lacking a roommate. (At least he wouldn’t need to explain his atrocious sleep schedule to anyone.)

“I made it,” he murmured. He could almost hear the soft  _ you made it _ from his mother. His hands trembled, a mix of excitement and anxiety surging through him. 

If he could do this, he could do anything.

First, he needed to unpack. Tossing his key and schedule onto the university provided desk, Yunho began the process of putting all of his things away. Clothes, shoes, laptop, books. Everything had a place, he soon discovered, including a neat little perch on his bed for Mint, his cute little frog plush he’d had since he was a child. Before he knew it, two hours had passed, and Yunho realized the timeframe for the mess hall serving dinner had opened. He still had several books to sort but he figured it wouldn’t hurt to take a break and seek out a meal.

The first step out of his dorm that evening was daunting. His new place of residence was not only unfamiliar but also lacking any sort of network. He had grown up with few friends beyond San. Most, if not all, of his younger years had been spent taking care of his mother; there had been little time for others. The city was new. The school was new. The people were new. And he could do nothing more than allow himself to be swallowed by the hustle of a world he had never even dreamed of being thrust into.

Tugging on a light jacket, he finally began the journey to the mess hall. The hallway outside was much, much louder, containing a multitude of echoed voices and excited cheers. He couldn’t distinguish what anyone was saying but he assumed they were first week celebrations. Yunho felt a little shocked in all honesty. Such a rowdy crowd seemed out of place for a university as prestigious as this. People did not share the same personalities, however, and no major had a set way someone needed to act. 

Thus, Yunho merely shook his head and locked the door behind him. The walls kept the noise at bay enough to be tolerable; there was no need to complain. Regardless of whether he preferred something on the quieter side, he had no right to control someone else’s experience. 

Locating the mess hall was less of an adventure than he thought it would be. One building over, it was easy to find and conveniently nearby. Which also meant he could run there five minutes before close when he studied too much—

After gathering an assortment of goodies and eagerly paying, Yunho began the trek back to his dorm. He felt as if he should’ve been doing more, like something was missing and his night was not complete. His shoulders drooped as he rode the elevator back to his floor, the realization setting in. Around that time, he would be cooking dinner for his mother, preparing her favorite show and tucking her in so they could share a meal together. It felt almost wrong to eat without her, as if he were breaking some law in the guide of the universe. Yunho swallowed as the elevator doors slid open, making a silent promise to call his mother the moment he finished eating.

Stepping into the hallway, an echo of laughter down the hall caught his attention. It sounded … familiar somehow. His head whipped up, eyes falling onto two people stumbling through a door the opposite way from his own dorm. 

For half a second, before Yunho decided his mind was playing a trick on him, one of them bore resemblance to Choi San.

xxx

Weeks passed, with Yunho so focused on classes and studying and juggling nightly check-ins with his mother than he had little time for other things. Rather, he lacked the will to participate in them. There were plenty of clubs and other activities he could be doing but his schedule was so packed with things to do that he lacked the willpower to seek anything beyond his dorm. His room became his own personal safe haven, used to drown out the noise and excessive partying that went down on his floor. Not his side of the hall, thank goodness, but still close enough that the base trembled through his floorboards and caused his pens to rattle in the most annoying way.

Yunho wasn’t confrontational though, so he had to learn to live with it out of necessity. 

He had, however, made a friend of sorts. A bright-eyed redhead by the name of Song Mingi. They shared a class and had been made lab partners for a particular project. Mingi was on the louder side but Yunho loved his sense of humor. It was easy to laugh and enjoy himself around him, and meeting up at the mess hall for lunch became their usual so quickly it felt like it had been that way forever. His personality was as warm as his smile. Mingi tried to get him to go clubbing on the weekends or attend a party or two but Yunho always politely declined, saying he had to study or had an essay due.

Yunho wasn’t sure why he felt the urge to finally accept his usual invitation that week, but he did.

Mingi stared at him from across the table with wide-eyed surprise. “You’ll go? Like,  _ actually _ go this time?”

“Sure,” he said with a shrug. “I just finished a really long research paper … I could use some stress relief.”

The redhead threw his hands into the air. “Finally! I was wondering how long it would take you to agree! You’ll have a great time, I promise.” Mingi lowered his hands, thrusting a finger in Yunho’s direction. “I have connections.”

“That smells of danger,” Yunho grumbled, scooping another bite of rice into his mouth.

“Don’t worry! Nothing bad will happen. Just make sure to wear your best outfit.” Mingi winked.

“Okay …” 

Their conversation trailed off into a swathe of other topics, before they eventually parted ways to prepare for their night out. Which … led to the realization that Yunho owned literally nothing that could work as a clubbing outfit. He’d never had to worry about it in the past. Luckily his wardrobe had enough in it to scrape together something decent, even if it was just a new pair of dark wash jeans, a low cut black shirt, and an old black jacket. Yunho knew next to nothing about makeup but he figured it wouldn’t really matter. They were going to a dark club, what difference did it make? He did, however, add a necklace his mother had bought him for a Christmas gift one year. It wasn’t much but it would do. 

The worry about a possible ‘dress code’ set in only moments before he met Mingi at the school gates. He was wearing a dark grey button-up with the sleeves rolled to below his elbows, a black choker wrapped around his throat. A silver earring dangled from his left ear. His friend perked up at the sight of him, turning to reveal a white shirt underneath the button-up, and Yunho knew his fate was sealed.

“Damn Yunho, I’m not usually one for simplicity, but you look great!” Mingi waved him over excitedly. “You sure you’ve never been clubbing before?”

“Would you believe I literally just yanked all of this from my closet?” He replied sheepishly. “There’s not like, uh, a dress code or anything right?”

Mingi laughed quietly, motioning for him to follow. “There is, but not for us. We’re gonna be vip guests.”

Yunho blinked in surprise. He hurried to catch up with his friend, following him down the sidewalk. “Vip guests? Where are we going that you have that kind of access?”

“It’s a surprise,” he answered with a wink. “Things will be fine! Just trust me, okay?”

What more could he do? Well, he could turn around and go back to his dorm, using a stomach ache as an excuse, but where was the fun in that? Besides, his interest had been captured. His curiosity over Mingi and his mysterious connection was much more appealing than sitting at a desk and studying, if he were being honest. So, Yunho swallowed his nerves and trailed after the redhead, completely in the dark about how his evening was going to pan out.

Nothing could’ve prepared him for the truth. 

The walk to the club was on the longer sider, taking close to fifteen minutes to arrive, but it passed quickly as they spoke about a multitude of other topics. As they approached, Mingi raised his hand and affixed it to a building in the distance.Yunho’s eyes followed the path of his pointing.

A large neon sign was the first thing he spotted, blinking purple and casting a glow along everything around it. It was two stories, the thump of music reaching them even down the street. A long line stretched down the left side of the street and around the corner.

His jaw dropped. “You didn’t tell me you had connections for  _ The Vault! _ Mingi!”

The redhead giggled softly. “Told you it was a surprise. Now follow me.” Mingi wasted no time in sauntering up to the bouncer serving as the barrier between the line of clubgoers and the sweet relief of inside. 

The bouncer, an older gentleman with silvery hair, perked up at the sight of him. “Ah, Mingi! I was wondering when you’d be here this evening.” He leaned to the side, Yunho blinking as he spotted him. “Brought a friend with you this time?”

“Yeah, finally managed to convince him to come.” Mingi jerked a thumb in his direction. “Is he here?”

“He arrived about ten minutes ago. Vip booth, as usual; just make sure you introduce your friend to the bouncers so they know to let him up.” The bouncer stepped to the side, allowing them entry—Yunho ignored the upset comments about them skipping the line.

The atmosphere beyond the door was vastly different. Music immediately crashed over his ears, followed by the scent of alcohol and various perfume and cologne all mixed together. Flashing lights nearly overwhelmed him but Mingi had enough sense to tug him to the side towards some stairs. Two more bouncers stood on either side of the staircase, but they again nodded to Mingi as he approached. 

“Hey guys! This is my friend, Yunho; he’s with me for the evening.” 

The man on the right nodded but didn’t say anything, merely stepping to the side to allow them entry. 

Yunho dipped his head politely as they passed, making the trek up the stairs. The area opened into a hallway leading to a single seating area at the end. From where he was standing, he could see several large leather sofas and a table already stacked with gleaming glasses and expensive liquor. The scent of incense brushed against his nose and it only grew stronger as he approached. Not overpowering, just the strong smell of roses. 

“Mingi … just what kind of connections do you have? This place isn’t exactly cheap …”

Mingi threw a glance over his shoulder. “You’re gonna meet him, don’t worry!” A few steps ahead, Mingi got there first … only to find the sofas completely empty.

Yunho came to a halt next to him. “Not here?”

“He’s probably at the bar or something. Go ahead and take a seat and I’ll try to find hi—”

“Looking for me?” A voice called, causing both of them to turn their heads.

And, just like that, Yunho’s heart dropped from his chest, burying itself deep within the earth.

A section of his hair had been dyed white, illuminated from the lights flickering around on the dance floor below them. His features were still sharp, light makeup accentuating him in all the right ways. He was dressed in a glittery silver croptop with a matching chain around his midriff, blue jewels twinkling in a teasing way. Black jeans sat low against his hips, one hand pressed against his left hip. His expression, bright and excited, shifted to one of shock as their eyes met.

“San …?” Yunho finally managed, voice cracking against his will. A flood of feelings ran through him, knees going weak as he stared at him. He had attended this university with a vague desire to see him, to  _ maybe _ run into him around campus, but he had never expected it to actually happen—especially not this soon. His chest felt tight.

“Yunho?” San called, voice surprised. “What are  _ you  _ doing in a place like this?”

“Wait, you two know each other?” Mingi questioned.

“Uh, yeah … we were—we were childhood friends.” San’s expression faltered at his words, but it was gone just as fast. Yunho’s head whipped back to Mingi, hand raising to point a finger in San’s direction. “ _ He’s _ your connection?”

San giggled in that squeaky way of his. Yunho dragged his eyes back over. “I am. This place is actually … owned by my family,” he admitted, wandering up to them. The smaller man slipped around their gawking frames and sank into one of the plush sofas. After a few moments of silent staring, he lifted his hands palm up. “Well? Aren’t you gonna sit?”

Right, sit—he should do that. Yunho did so, awkwardly shuffling to the sofa opposite San’s; he didn’t think he could handle being so close to him right then. Especially not with the memory of their last encounter playing vividly in his mind, the very reason their contact had faded into nothing and their friendship ended on a sour note.

Mingi flopped onto the sofa next to him, completely oblivious to the storm taking place beside him. He stretched out comfortably and sank back into the plush leather with a sigh of relief. “Damn, I really needed this.”

“Rough week?” San questioned, Yunho just quietly observing.

“Engineering is tough man! I didn’t realize it was gonna be this much math,” Mingi complained, sitting back up so he could reach for one of the bottles of expensive whiskey before him.

“I offered to tutor you and you said no!” San laughed, also fishing around for his choice of drink. He paused, fingers hovering over a glass, and shifted his attention to Yunho. “We have pretty much anything your heart desires, even in the back. Want anything?”

Yunho blinked dumbly before he realized San was addressing him. The amount of ease with which San spoke, like nothing had happened between them, felt wrong. “Oh, um … call me lame, but I’ve never actually drank before …?”

Mingi paused in his pouring. “What!? Never drank? Like, not even experimented?”

“No …” He replied, looking between the half-empty glass and the assortment of other things on the table; he pretended he couldn’t see San’s knowing expression. 

“I don’t think it’s lame. You’ve had a lot going on.” San hummed softly. “Mingi, would you mind running down to the bar and picking up a tray of samples? The bartenders know you; they’ll know what you mean.”

“Oh! Yeah, sure. I’ll be right back,” he replied cheerfully, glass clinking against the table. 

They watched him leave, and Yunho’s stomach did a flip. He slowly looked to San, their eyes meeting. Despite sitting mere feet apart, Yunho felt so impossibly far. 

“How’s your mom been?” San finally asked, fiddling idly with the bottles before him. 

Yunho paused, taking a shaky breath to steel his nerves. His shoulders relaxed as he became acutely aware of the tension coiled within his muscles. With nothing to occupy his hands, Yunho opted for digging his fingertips into his thighs. “She’s good. She’s living with my grandma for the moment.”

“So you could come here?” Not a moment wasted, as usual.

“Yeah! I, uh, wanna become a doctor. To, you know, hopefully take care of her better,” Yunho replied. He paused, the noise of the club pressing heavily upon him. “This university has the best program in the country so … I ended up here.”

A shadow of something flickered over San’s features, so quick that Yunho wasn’t sure if it actually happened. “Oh, that’s neat! It’s kinda like fate then that we ended up in the same university, right?” San smiled.

The truth burned hotly deep within.

“Aha, yeah. Um …” Yunho tightened his grip to near bruising. “About that da—”

“San! You didn’t tell me you guys hired a new bartender!” Mingi’s voice suddenly whined, cutting him off. He plopped back onto the sofa, tray of shot glasses rattling angrily. “Luckily Seonghwa was down there to vouch for me. Why do you hire such tiny, angry people?”

San threw his head back with a laugh, and even Yunho couldn’t hold back his chuckle. 

“Hwanwoong, right? We just hired him this week. I’ll make sure Seonghwa lets him know.”

“I’m sure he knows  _ now! _ ” Mingi whined, snatching one of the shots from the tray; it was gone before San could reply. “He even asked to see identification!”

“Oh, the audacity,” Yunho teased, earning another round of loud whining. The moment for his question passed, and he pretended to ignore the way San was watching him from his peripherals. He resigned himself to trying again later, assuming that chance ever came. But Yunho knew himself better than anyone else ever could; he could wait.

After all, he had done plenty of waiting already.

“Anyways, now we can figure out what kind of drink Yunho likes.”

Right, drinking—that was the whole reason he had agreed to come to this damn club in the first place. 

“Well …” he replied, looking at the tray before him, “Here goes nothing, right?”

“That’s the spirit!” Mingi cheered.

Somehow, Yunho felt he would regret those words come morning.

The rest of the night passed in a blur. No tolerance paired with an empty stomach was a recipe for chaos from the start. Barely five shots in and Yunho was already feeling it, so much so that he truly lacked the will to dance or mingle with anyone down below; he was a sleepy drunk, they discovered. Make no mistake, Mingi tried, but San waved him away with the promise of taking care of him. Despite the drunken stupor he was nearing, Yunho knew he should’ve refused, but the words tied his tongue in a knot and let him staring with glassy eyes and lightheaded wonder. San said little, much to his surprise, just giving him sips of water at random intervals and allowing Yunho to just sink into the sofa as he struggled through a thick haze.

By the time his mind came back around, Mingi had just finished up his shenanigans for the night and scurried back up to meet him. It took a bit of effort and a fair amount of laughing to get him onto his feet, San fitting beneath his arm and supporting him with more strength than Yunho ever would’ve given him credit for. 

(Later, when he was sober, he would lament over how perfectly he fit there. For the moment, he could only focus on not losing the meager lunch he’d eaten that day.)

Stumbling outside, they were met with a taxi. Yunho felt grateful, too out of it to attempt to coordinate one foot after the other. San and Mingi helped him into the car with a bit of a struggle. As Mingi rounded the car to slide into the other seat, San leaned over him and clicked his seatbelt into place—he thought nothing of the tussle with his pocket at the time. Then San pulled away, averting his gaze, and mumbled a soft goodbye. Yunho couldn’t remember if he said it back, but the slight smile on San’s features gave a bit of an affirmation.

Pulling away from the club, Yunho twisted his body around to watch San grow further and further away. 

Despite the implications, Yunho felt rejuvenated.

He felt like he had been given a second chance, presented on a silver platter before him. The question of whether he could keep it from slipping through his fingers remained unseen.

xxx

Waking to sunlight in his face was his first clue of something amiss.

Yunho groaned, rolling over to bury his face into his pillow. The scent that met his nose wasn’t his own, however, prompting him to crack his eyes open. It smelled like … like … Mingi’s cologne from the night before. Yunho shot up in bed, twisting his body around a little too fast. He groaned as both his back and his head protested, clapping a hand over his forehead. Something clinked in the distance, prompting him to peek around the room. The scent of cologne cleared into the scent of fresh waffles. 

Then the back of Mingi’s head popped into view. He was standing a few feet away in a tiny kitchen area, back to Yunho as he hummed softly. 

A further glance around the room revealed a nest of blankets and pillows on the floor, quieting the weird fear making his heart race uncomfortably in his chest. The room was small but still leagues bigger than the tiny space Yunho occupied. Mingi lived in the nicer of the three main dorm buildings, built more like tiny studio apartments sans a bathroom. It still wasn’t much in the grand scheme of things but for Yunho, confined to a tiny burner he’d purchased for his window sill and a microwave balancing precariously on an old cabinet, it was luxury. 

Mingi had noticed his awakening in the span of time he spent admiring things. The redhead turned, raising a hand into a wave. “Hey! Welcome to the land of the living!” He turned his back again, the sound of clinking dishes rattling beyond him. 

Yunho grunted and rubbed at his temple. “How did I get here?”

Mingi crossed the room, presenting a glass of water in one hand and a few pills in the other. “When we got back here last night, I remembered that I didn’t know what dorm was yours. You were less than helpful.”

His eyes went wide. “Oh god, what did I say?”

“Nothing wild!” He replied with a chuckle, Yunho accepting the water. He downed the pills with little protest. “You were just whining about San.” Mingi laughed yet again at his alarmed expression. “Just his name, I promise.”

“Sorry if I was a handful,” he mumbled.

“Nah, it was fun! Glad your first night out was with me!” Mingi left him there, returning to the counter. His eyes fell upon the waffle iron on the counter as Mingi pulled one of the delicious smelling golden circles from within. “Will you stay for breakfast?”

Yunho finished the rest of the water, tugging the blankets off of him. “Well yeah, those smell amazing.” He rose on shaky feet and stumbled to the door. “Bathroom?”

“Down the hall to the right; can’t miss it.” 

“‘Kay, I’ll be back in a sec.” Stumbling into the hallway, Yunho was met with a surprising amount of quiet. No raging parties, no yelling, just calm silence. It was a double-edged sword. The quiet was nice but the unsettling feeling of being out of place was not. 

Finishing his business and scrubbing at his hands, Yunho faced himself in the mirror for the first time since yesterday. His cheeks had their usual rosy glow, accentuated even more by the hangover threatening his poor head. His hair stood up in various directions and he ran a wet hand through it in a feeble attempt to smooth it over. 

Then the realization that he had, one hundred percent without a doubt run into San,  _ d _ rank with San, allowed himself to feel like it was normal, like nothing had ever  _ changed, _ set in.

“What are you doing, Yunho?” He whispered. 

He lacked an answer for his own question.

Returning to Mingi’s room, he was met with a waffle covered in whipped cream and strawberries. They settled on Mingi’s bed and savored their breakfast, the atmosphere around them comfortable. Yunho found the courage to ask the question that had been burning within him since the evening about halfway through his waffle.

“Hey Mingi?”

“Mm? Yeah?”

Yunho lowered his fork. “How’d you meet San?”

“San?” Mingi’s head tilted. “We met in class. He’s pretty cool, offered to tutor me and then invited me to his club.”

“Hmm …” Yunho looked at the whipped cream slowly melting on his plate. “I didn’t even know his family owned a business, let alone The Vault.”

“I thought you guys were childhood friends?” Mingi understandably questioned. “Honestly surprised you didn’t know.”

“It’s … complicated,” Yunho sighed.

“Oh?” He pretended he missed the curious look Mingi sent his direction. “Wanna talk about it? I’m all ears.”

“Ah … not really. Sorry, Mingi. Maybe in the future.”

“Don’t sweat it!” Mingi replied, patting Yunho’s shoulder. “I’m always one building over if you need to blow off some steam though. Doesn’t matter if it’s about San or not.”

Yunho smiled apologetically, plucking a strawberry from his plate. “Thanks. I really appreciate it.”

“Thank me by finishing your waffles!” The redhead laughed, and then the atmosphere changed again.

Yunho obeyed, finishing them off with no protest. After a round of reassurances that he would make it back fine, Yunho snagged his jacket from a chair and went on his merry way. Returning to his own dorm was easy. Just two elevator rides and a walk through a pretty garden really. He barely blinked before he was there, standing in front of his door with heavy limbs and the urge to sleep for another few hours. 

Fishing around in his pockets for his keys, his fingers brushed against something foreign. Yunho blinked in confusion before curling his fingers around it and removing it from his pocket. A … napkin? He just shook his head, wondering if Mingi had put it there to prank him. Locating his keys, Yunho unlocked his door and slipped into the cool darkness of his dorm. The black-out curtains over his window swallowed the sunlight desperately trying to break through, giving his head momentary relief. He tossed the napkin and his keys onto the desk and sighed, leaning against it for a moment.

“What a night …” he murmured. Yunho switched his desk lamp on and winced at the sudden rush of light. He snatched the napkin from the desk and went to toss it away. Right before letting go, he caught sight of something amiss. His first thought was food but upon closer inspection, it appeared to be … words? Yunho unraveled the mysterious napkin with bated breath and he swore his heart stopped.

Embellished with a little heart, hastily scrawled with a marker, was San’s phone number. How did Yunho know it was San’s? Perhaps the little ‘call me <3 - San’ was enough of a sign.

He stared at it, dumbfounded, before the realization set in.

No matter how you looked at it, Jeong Yunho was totally, one hundred percent, screwed.

**_—act vi._ **

“We just finished and you’re already looking at your phone? Not even gonna bask in the afterglow or, whatever?” A voice behind him scolded softly. 

San didn’t even bother turning, just staring at the message on his phone with tired eyes. He was seated at the edge of a bed, completely bare and body sticky with drying sweat. He looked as much of a mess as he felt like, clutching his phone while a variety of thoughts battled for control of his mind.

“In a moment,” he murmured.

“What are you looking at anyway?”

“A message,” San responded. The  _ why are you avoiding me? _ glared harshly back at him.

San felt like a dumbass. Not even a fun one.

Really, he just felt dumb.

He would be lying if he said he hadn’t thought of Yunho almost every damn day since their kiss in the snow. San had tried his best to get over him, including sleeping around and dating people he could never get into. No matter how good someone made him feel, no matter how blissed out they made his mind, San could never get the thought of  _ what if this was Yunho instead _ out of his brain. It haunted him with every date he went on, every partner he brought home—every person he used.

(Truthfully, he felt no better than his own father, using people who felt they had a future with the campus pretty boy feigning a heart of gold smile. Really his heart sat black and rotten, festering with indecision and the inability to admit his true feelings. He wore a mask while so many others wore their hearts on their sleeves.)

Yunho had been like that as a child too and San loathed himself for that comparison too.

Meeting him at the club had been jarring. Out of everyone Mingi could’ve brought along, San had never even considered Yunho to be one of them. The very idea, had it been hypothetically pitched weeks prior, would’ve made him howl with laughter. Innocent, pretty-faced Yunho, in a dirty, drug-ridden club like The Vault? He wasn’t with the wrong crowd. He hadn’t grown up with a dangerous father and a hollow mother. So San, against his better judgement, hastily scribbled his number on a napkin and shoved it into drunken Yunho’s pocket. He had watched the cab drive away with a heavy heart and the realization that there was no escape from what he had done.

A week passed, and San finally allowed himself to breathe again. No text, no call, and he wondered if fate had decided they truly weren’t destined to work things out. Just as he settled down again, it happened. Middle of the week, close to lunch, his phone buzzed with a text from an unknown number. That first notification was daunting. They began slowly, just simple how are yous and what are you eating for dinner type messages, but they didn’t last long. Not when they had already been so close before that.

The first time they lost track of time and texted until three in the morning, San knew he was fucked.

The next two weeks launched into a weird flurry of activity. Everything felt too fast yet too slow, San inquiring about a date a few days later. Yunho dodged him, understandably so, for close to a week. He accepted during a particularly rough study period for all of them, which pushed San to believe it as more of a needed bit of stress relief than something he actually wanted. Which was also fine, though another part of him accepted it as a small victory given Yunho’s friendship with Mingi. He liked Mingi, he really did, but Yunho choosing him over the tall redhead made his heart skip a beat.

Their first outing, a date that couldn’t even be called a date, went well enough. They laughed, they talked, and they celebrated—it felt like nothing had ever changed. 

But San had changed in the span of time they weren’t in contact.

His need for freedom, after being controlled by his parents for so long, grew until it consumed him. So while he knew, deep down, that he liked Yunho, and that all of these problems could be avoided with a simple talk, San still carried fear within his heart. The fear of being tied down, of being told what to do … or perhaps it was the fear of rejection, that he would regret destroying a rekindled friendship before they ever had the chance to properly fix things.

Which was, unfortunately, where his plan had hatched. 

After three weeks of dates every other day, San knew he had to make a choice. Spur of the moment, spilling from him while they were just enjoying ramen one day, he announced it.

_ “I have a boyfriend. His name is Wooyoung!” _

Oh, how San hated himself the moment those words escaped him. Watching the happiness drain from his features, the very light in his eyes die, San felt like the worst person to ever grace the earthly plain. He could feel Yunho’s hurt even across the table, watching him lower his chopsticks as he attempted to will away the clear upset on his face. The sadness was palpable but, at the time, San knew he had to do it.

“ _ Oh,” Yunho had replied, “I’m happy for you!”  _

_ No you’re not, _ San wanted to scream. Maybe he wanted Yunho to fight for him, but that wasn’t fair of him either. There was nothing to fight for when both of them had no clue what their relationship was anymore either. 

They began to meet up less and less. San watched as they drifted apart yet again, the weight of their kiss as kids still hanging between them, the wound of their feelings raw and painful. He had no one to blame but himself; he knew he was dumb. (When you grew up in a household devoid of love and communication though, it couldn’t all be pinned on him.)

His stomach sank to the floor as another message buzzed through;  _ we need to talk. _ Followed closely by  _ please, San, answer me. _

“Is that Yunho?” Wooyoung’s voice cut through his reverie once again. 

San’s shoulders dropped and he sighed heavily. “... How’d you know?”

“I’m not dumb,” Wooyoung grumbled. He heard the man behind him shift, bed creaking in protest beneath. “You’ve been calling me a lot more than usual.” 

“What’s wrong with sleeping with my best friend?”

Wooyoung laughed drily. “I’m a psychology major, San; you can’t fool me.” The bed shifted again, his friend moving to press up against his back. His chin dug into San’s shoulder as he stared at his phone; San allowed it. “I know you’ve been using me.”

San sighed yet again and they both watched his screen go dark. “You’re using me too, Wooyoung.”

“This isn’t about me,” Wooyoung deadpanned. “You told him we were dating, San. That got back to Yeosang and now he won’t talk to me; this is more than just you.”

San didn’t answer, just staring stubbornly at the ground in front of them. 

“... You need to talk to him. Like, actually sit down and have a damn conversation.” Wooyoung moved off of him, slipping off the bed to fish around for a pair of boxers on the floor. He watched with blank eyes as Wooyoung forced them on. “You’re hurting him, yourself, and now someone who has nothing to do with it.”

“You’re one to talk,” San grumbled. “Listen to yourself—you’re using me to get over Yeosang too.”

“This isn’t about me!” Wooyoung repeated, more forcefully. “This is about you and your problems! How you use sex to channel your emotions! My issues with Yeosang are  _ my _ issues.”

He hunched in on himself, crossing his arms like a scolded child. Life had presented an opportunity to fix the damage he’d done on a silver platter, and here San was letting it burn to the ground around him. Around him, life was peaceful,  _ perfect _ even. He was at the university of his dreams studying something he wanted more than anything as a child, an opportunity many never saw come to fruition. Yet here he was, stewing at the center, stuck in place while everything continued to grow further and further from his reach.

“Talk to him, San! Not just for him, but for you too.” Wooyoung’s hands hovered into view, cupping his cheeks and gently forcing him to look up; their eyes met. “You deserve to be happy, no matter what your parents have told you. You are not them.” 

San knew Wooyoung was right, but that didn’t make it any easier to accept.

“I know,” he replied softly, cupping Wooyoung’s hands with his own. “I know. I’ll try.”

“Good,” Wooyoung answered, relieved. 

He was not proud of his ability to lie to someone’s face.

**_—act vii._ **

“I don’t know what to do,” Yunho admitted, throat tight and voice strained. Tears threatened to spill over at any moment, not a soul there to witness his downfall.

On the other end of the line, his mother sniffled as well. She, as many mothers often did, could feel his pain despite being hundreds of miles away. “Follow your heart, baby,” she replied, and he wanted nothing more than to collapse into her arms. “It’s gotten you this far. I’m certain it hasn’t led you astray.”

Yunho did not share that sentiment, vision going blurry as the tears accumulating in his eyes finally rolled down his cheeks. He was afraid—terrified—as everything he had fought to build came tumbling down around him. For the first time since his childhood, Yunho had no control over his future. Reconnecting with San had quickly become a blessing in disguise. He had thought everything was going well at first. They were meeting up. They were talking. They were having a good time.

Then San began to get busy—too busy for Yunho.

He had begun to decline invites to meals and general hangouts, something that began in a gradual downward spiral, until San refused to meetup at all. 

_ Too busy, I’m sorry. _

_ I have a paper due, can’t tonight!  _

_ Family meeting over club stuff and I gotta be there! _

They were excuses that made sense. No matter how upset Yunho was over it, he also understood, and it hurt.  _ It hurt! _ How were they going to fix things if San kept running away before they ever got the chance?

When San finally accepted his invitation for ramen one night, he had never expected to get the boyfriend bombshell. Never in a million years had Yunho ever considered San dating someone else. A selfish thought, he acknowledged that, but he had always been under the impression that things would be fine, that they would work out no matter where they ended up. Life wasn’t a fairytale though, and Yunho needed to come to terms with that. 

Even still, Yunho figured they would—could—remain friends despite that. 

Yet San still pushed him away, leaving him to wonder what changed. Just like that snowy day all those years ago, San left him to process emotions that weighed heavily on his shoulders. It was San who destroyed him from the inside with a single statement, leaving him standing there while his heart constricted with vines that threatened to claw their way up his throat at any moment. 

“Talk to him, baby; I’m sure he’ll listen to you.” His mother’s voice pulled him from his thoughts. “If not … it might be best to let him go.”

_ Let him go. _ Yunho held in a sob as those words sank to the bottom of his feet. He didn’t want that; anything but that. 

San had taken his heart all the way to Seoul and still Yunho had never let go. 

“I’ll try,” he responded, voice strained. “I promise. I love you, mom.”

“I love you too.” She coughed for a moment, lighting concern within him. “You can do it.”

“I hope so,” Yunho replied.  _ I hope so. _ After a round of goodbyes, he tapped end call and sank back into his bed. His eyes fixated blankly on the ceiling.

He felt so damn foolish. Yunho should’ve, rightfully, been angry at San. The latter had started this, kickstarting their reconnection, and then left him in the dark with little to no explanation. Part of him wondered if it had something to do with his boyfriend, like he was forcing San into not speaking with him, but he was the type to go his own way. Like hell he would ever bend over backwards for another person and their desires; he had always been headstrong like that. So with that knowledge in mind, Yunho’s thought process had shifted into finding inadequacies in himself instead. What other explanation could there be?

“Maybe he’s embarrassed of me,” Yunho laughed bitterly, the shadows in his room hissing. “He’s so cool and mysterious, and I’m everything opposite that. I wouldn’t want me either.” Those words pained him and Yunho wished he could retract them the moment they left his lips. His eyes welled with tears again, raising his hands to rub at them as a sob threatened to push through. “Maybe I should let him go,” he whispered, thick sadness blanketing his entire body.

Yunho never knew falling in love could hurt so badly.

xxx

Hours later, he was awoken by his phone buzzing dangerously close to his head. Yunho blinked, bleary-eyed and sleepy, at the message casting light throughout his dark dorm room. He must’ve fallen asleep, exhausted from the tears now dried along his cheeks. The tired man snatched up his phone and squinted at the screen as his brain attempted to process what was before him.

Message from: Sannie!

— [4:34 AM] sorry, yunho. can we meet up? 

Message to: Sannie!

— [5:04 AM] sure. where?

Yunho turned his phone off, sighing quietly. He debated getting up for a drink before his phone vibrated yet again and more light flooded the room. What the hell was San still doing awake?

Message from: Sannie!

— [5:06 AM] the ramen shop. say, 3pm tomorrow?

Message to: Sannie!

— [5:08 AM] ok. see you then.

The only thing saving him from panicking at that moment was the lull of sleep tugging at his consciousness. Come morning, when he checked his phone and realized he would be late to something he didn’t remember agreeing to, he would panic. But for now … Yunho allowed himself to sink into the warmth of slumber.

xxx

Stepping around the corner, Yunho tightened his grip around his phone. The street was empty, clouds above hanging heavy with the threat of rain. He shivered as cold air stained his cheeks rosy. The awning belonging to their meeting place whipped in the wind, stark red against the pale whiteness of the sky. San was not beneath it and a kernel of doubt threatened to pop in the back of Yunho’s mind.

“Wait for me!” A voice suddenly called, and he threw a glance over his shoulder to find the source. It was, as he expected, San. He arrived wearing a light grey hoodie that extended just a bit too far down his arms, the hood containing tiny ears stitched into it. “Hey!” He greeted, coming to a stop before him, head tilting back in the process so he could view him properly. 

Yunho forgot his words for a moment and just stared at him in slack-jawed awe. It took San’s head cocking to the side for him to realize he should probably say something. If the pause was noticed—and it certainly was—he didn’t mention it.

“U-um, good afternoon …” The words came out a little more awkward than he would’ve liked, but San showed no sign of it bothering him.

“Thanks for showing up, Yunho.” San smiled gently. He motioned for Yunho to follow, swerving around him so he could take the lead in their arrival to the restaurant …

… only for the duo to be met with a ‘closed for renovations' sign.

“Well that sucks,” San said, pressing his fingertips against the window with a defeated sigh.

“We can go somewhere else too; it’s not a big deal,” Yunho mumbled. “Besides, it’s not like it could get worse.”

Said a moment too soon, the first drops of rain that had been threatening to crash upon them all day beginning to fall against the awning overhead. The storm rolled in quickly, sending a downpour just beyond their plastic cover and the scent of wet asphalt flying up at them.

_ Note to self—never test nature. _

Yunho turned, sinking back against the wall and shoving his hands back into his pockets.

“What are you doing?” San questioned.

He glanced at him. “Waiting out the storm? I’m not gonna run in the rain.”

“That’s … fair.” His hand dropped, San turning around so he too could lean against the wall. “I didn’t think it would be closed. Sorry, Yunho, since I’m the one who invited you here and all.”

“It’s fine,” he replied quietly. “Honestly … I’m surprised you invited me at all.” Even from the corner of his eye, he caught the flicker of emotion through San’s weary features; he looked as tired as Yunho felt.

“I know. I … I just wanted to see you.” A pause. “To apologize in person.”

Yunho focused hard on the rain thrumming against the road in front of them. “For what?”

San had the decency to look surprised at least. “For lying to you. I don’t actually have a boyfriend,” he admitted softly, barely heard over raindrops falling against the awning. “I’m sorry, Yunho. I was just … scared over my feelings. About that day—”

“I don’t want to talk about that day,” he cut off, voice a little more harsh than he intended. “Not right now.” He met San’s surprised eyes with fire deep in his own. “I’ve waited for you to be ready all these years; now you get to wait for me.”

He expected San to bristle beneath his scolding, to rear back and scoff in his face. He expected him to argue, to get angry, to get upset. But he did none of those things. He just sank back against the wall, averting his gaze back to the rain beyond. “Okay.” That single word instilled fear within him, like Yunho had ruined everything with no chance of getting it back, but something told him that San had accepted it was more than just him in this equation. 

They were mere feet apart and yet Yunho felt they were further away than ever.

“Then … are we going to try? To make this work?” San asked.

Yunho didn’t answer immediately, just letting the sound of rain span between them. He inhaled, shaky. “I’ll be honest, I’m not sure what ‘this’ is anymore. But … it’s not because of fate that we’re both here. We’re human; we’ll figure it out.”

“Even if it doesn’t work?”

Their eyes met once again, rainfall reminding him of all the tears he had ever shed over the boy staring back at him with open fear and helpless vulnerability. 

“We’ll always be friends no matter what happens. When I’m ready, when I’ve forgiven you, we’ll talk again.”

Yunho only hoped he was making the right decision.

**_—act viii._ **

The lull of summer passed in a blur, followed quickly by trees going bare in preparation for winter. 

Yunho had gone back home at the end of his first semester, visiting with his mother and grandmother. They offered him a variety of advice and took care of him when he needed it most, allowing him to work through the brunt of his sadness. Part of him worried he had taken too long to figure out what he wanted to do, that San would grow bored with waiting.

Deep down, he knew San would wait. 

When he finally arrived back for their winter semester, he knew everything would work out. After a week of settling in and figuring out new classes, along with some catching up and encouragement from Mingi, he worked up the courage to send a message.

Message to: Sannie!

— [8:46 PM] hey, it’s yunho. are you back on campus?

Walking out to the university’s frontgate, he waited.

Message from: Sannie!

— [8:55 PM] yes!! are you?

Yunho smiled, leaning against the frigid metal. 

Message to: Sannie!

— [8:56 PM] meet me at the school gates asap.

Tapping send on the message, Yunho shoved his phone back into his pocket and opted for cracking open the can of coffee he was holding. He sipped it, staring into the distance as a roil of emotions surged through him. Yunho had never been good at dealing with his emotions. He had always viewed them as something unnecessary, something that he wasn’t allowed to feel given how he had always taken care of his mother. She had never made him feel that way, quite the opposite truly, but seeing her in constant pain had always made him believe he could never experience something worse than she could. Being presented with an opportunity to make things right, to actually talk them out … he had needed time to process all that came with it.

Yunho finished off his coffee right as he heard a shuffle of footsteps through the snow. He raised his head, spotting San in the distance, clad in a big fluffy coat, cute hat, and big scarf. San waddled up to him with a rough exhale, clutching something in his hand as he fought for air.

His eyes went wide as he spotted Yunho. “You’re actually here.”

“Of course I am,” he answered, smile soft. “When I was ready, remember?”

“Then you’ve …?”

“I’ve forgiven you, yes.” Yunho lifted his empty coffee can, tracing the logo with his eyes. “I want to make this,  _ us, _ work.”

San drew closer, setting in next to him and bumping gently against his shoulder. His breath curled into the night air beside him; Yunho spotted a box of strawberry milk in his hand. “I want that more than anything.”

“Then … let me start with the obvious. Why’d you lie about having a boyfriend?” Yunho asked. He had a whole script of questions rehearsed in his head but he knew he wouldn’t be able to follow it, not when the person answering them was penchant of chaos Choi San.

San exhaled softly next to him, clutching his drink. “I thought using the boyfriend excuse would make you angry at me. That it would push you away without me having to do it myself.”

“I would’ve respected you having a boyfriend regardless of my own feelings, San,” Yunho murmured.

“I know that now, but at the time … I was just so confused. I was worried about being tied down to someone, especially someone I knew I didn’t deserve,” he laughed bitterly. “My parents have always drilled my not being good enough into my head from the moment I could talk.”

“Well they’re wrong,” he hissed in response. “You’re worth every bit of goodness and more.”

“I also know that now,” San replied. “But it was hard to get over. Even more because it’s you. You’re the only one who ever gave me a chance, who saw me as more than a dirty kid from down the way.”

Yunho’s head tilted to the side so he could chance a glance at San’s face. “You were the only friend I had back then too, San. I had to deal with my mother being sick all on my own. Then you came along and gave me something to rely on, something to make me smile when everything felt so bleak all the time.” He raised a hand, setting it gently on San’s shoulder; the latter looked up at him with watery eyes. “I wasn’t lying when I said I came here to become a doctor, but that’s not the whole truth.”

“The whole truth?” San whispered.

“I saw your scholarship in an article. Mom convinced me to try to get in, so I worked my ass off to pass the entrance exams. I wanted to see you again but I never expected it to happen so soon.” Yunho scratched the back of his head with his free hand. “I wasn’t prepared for it. I was worried I had done something to upset you when you began to push me away, and I couldn’t figure out what to do to fix it.”

“No!” San exclaimed, a little loudly. “You didn’t do anything wrong. I’m just … dumb.”

Yunho smiled, his own eyes growing hazy. “We’re both dumb. All of this could’ve been solved if we’d just spoken about it years ago.”

“Yeah … but to be fair, we’re young,” San mumbled. “We’re allowed to be dumb; that’s why we’re going to school.”

His attention shifted upwards as a flake of snow drifted between them. Above, snow began to fall gently, making his heart twitch in his chest.

San used that time to shift closer, wrapping his arms around Yunho’s upper half and burying his face in his coat. “... I thought I ruined our friendship with that kiss years ago. That’s why I quit writing. I was worried you hated me.”

“Never,” Yunho whispered, lifting his own arms to hug San. “I could never hate you.”

“I’m sorry, Yunho. I’ve never been good at communication … and you genuinely deserved better,” he mumbled into his coat, so quietly Yunho had to strain to pick out each word. “I want to make things right.”

Yunho inhaled. 

“Then kiss me.”

San pulled back, their eyes meeting; he sniffled. Moments of quiet contemplation spanned between them before San accepted the invitation, Yunho even helping by bending down a bit. Their lips met, lashes fluttering as snow continued to settle against them. It wasn’t great but it conveyed every feeling they needed to in that moment. This time, Yunho didn’t allow him to pull away, deepening the kiss and wrapping an arm protectively around San’s tiny waist. He held the other man against his chest, kissing him until they were forced to part for air, steam curling between them as they fought to catch their breath.

The parallels of their childhood spanned starkly between them then, so much so that Yunho couldn’t stop his chuckle. He was holding an empty coffee can. San was holding that sweet drink he loved. (Strawberry milk, Yunho now knew.) Snow fell between them, and a major life event loomed on the horizon. Only this time, winter was repairing what it had broken all those years ago.

“What are you laughing at?” San questioned, but Yunho just smiled. He reached out to brush the snow from San’s hat.

“Nothing, I promise. Wanna go watch a movie with me?” He jerked his thumb towards the building containing his dorm.

San visibly brightened at his invitation. “Please! My nose is about to fall off!”

“Come on then.” Yunho reached out, linking their fingers together, and tugged San after him.

They still had plenty of work to do, but it was a start.

(Days later, while enjoying a meal in the mess hall, San caught sight of Wooyoung chatting away with Yeosang, followed closely by Mingi introducing them to Hwanwoong, the bartender from San’s club. And, gradually, their hearts grew closer, scars upon them healing as they worked through all of the problems that got them there. Together, they created home.)

**Author's Note:**

> so that happened,,
> 
> find me on twt [@moonswallowed](https://twitter.com/moonswallowed) to kick my ass! (18+ only!)
> 
> thank you for reading!!


End file.
